


Ancestral drabbles

by Unpronounceable



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Gen, Mentions of Slavery, Whoops changed my mind gonna make this into drabbles, ambiguously implied relationships, this is very short and I am sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:54:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unpronounceable/pseuds/Unpronounceable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very short, very not-planned-out drabbles about Team Signless. They'll probably mostly be centered around the Psiioniic, I can't help myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You toe him in the shoulder while dusting off your cloak, but he does not stir, merely curls in tighter.  
> You nudge him again, a little harder, and in hindsight perhaps too hard, and when he opens his eyes your voice is perhaps a bit too rough when you say "Get up, Psiioniic."
> 
> And he responds "yes, master."

When you found him, or rather, when he found you, he was hardly anything but scarred skin and small bird-like bones and those big, intelligent eyes.  
You found him by accident, but he was the one looking for you.  
When you learned of his life before he escaped his bonds, not only from his speech but by seeing the marks and the brands on his back, it did nothing but strengthen your devotion to freeing the ones like him, those who could not free themselves.

He's not much better now, but he's better, and it warms the deepest cavities in your chest to think that you helped him bloom into something closer to what he deserved. 

But darkness tends to linger in corners and cracks even when you light a candle, and you couldn't hope to extinguish all his woes and the horrors he'd had to endure, not when the darkness was so, so thick and you were merely one flame.

 

It happens one night when Porrim ushers you to start packing what little you have so that you can keep moving along. 

You're bleary-eyed and groggy, and feel that you have not slept nearly as much as any troll should be allowed to, and the sudden rush prods at your nerves.  
You see Meulin standing a little ways away, sniffing the air and looking towards the edges of the woods.  
Porrim hisses something and you get up, stumbling, and look at the figure sleeping next to you, as close against you as possible.  
It's odd when he sleeps, because he does it so seldom, and to see his eyes dim and covered and not glowing, knowing, is almost surreal.  
On the nights when you, him and Meulin are huddled together, for one reason or another, you often drift off to the soft light of his eyes shining into the night, and wake up to them gone somewhere.  
Sometimes he will not even indulge you and your feline bedmate, but sits for hours and hours close to wherever it is you're sleeping, watching the darkness and challenging it to attack.  
You're grateful for his loyalty and dedication to your welfare, but he often ignores his own, however much the rest of you try to care for him. You worry to the point where him sleeping like this brings relief.

He must have been terribly tired, light sleeper that he is, if he wasn't roused by Porrim scurrying around.  
You can't blame him, it has been a rough few nights, and according to the haste with which the girls gather their belongings it is going to be a few more rough ones.  
You toe him in the shoulder while dusting off your cloak, but he does not stir, merely curls in tighter.  
You nudge him again, a little harder, and in hindsight perhaps too hard, and when he opens his eyes your voice is perhaps a bit too rough when you say "Get up, Psiioniic."

And he responds "yes, master."

You don't realize what it is that made your stomach churn before you realize the word used, and you look at him in shock while he mindlessly helps pick things up and tie them together so that they can be carried.  
He keeps his head down and his shoulders hunched, and he does not speak, like before he realized his right to freedom, like so many others you have seen weighed down by the chains of a highblood.

"Mituna," you utter after a bit, and he flinches before turning to you, blinking and rubbing his eyes.  
"Kankri? …Uh, sorry, I was half asleep, were you saying something?"  
You merely continue staring, with a stone instead of your bloodpusher, and when he realizes what he'd said he gets a look on his face that you imagine mirrors your own.  
"No, I didn't mean-"  
But Porrim calls to you, Meulin is crouched as if she senses danger, which she most likely does.  
So he casts an apologetic glance at you while you both hurry to catch up.

But even as you walk quickly through the underground with Mituna's flashing light around you, your Disciple and your cherished guardian by your side, you can not shake the sickening film that has clung to you as soon as he called you that title.  
Mituna told you you'd freed him, but if that means he was merely imprinted onto you like a slave to a new master, it defies everything you've tried to teach and everything you believe in, and it is the last thing you want your most treasured friendship to be.

But Meulin is wary and the night won't last long, so you keep walking ahead with the night soaking into your sandals, but with the feeling that you've somehow betrayed the brilliant light walking in front of you.


	2. Everything will burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mituna, dearest. It is still day, you should be resting. Is everything alright?"  
> He doesn't answer you, just continues standing where he is, looking at the horizon.  
> You come closer still, until you're by his side, and put your hand on his shoulder.  
> He turns his head to face you, and the immense sadness and fear in his face makes you gasp.

Your name is Porrim Maryam, and you think you should really stop taking in stray little trolls.  
It was enough of a hassle to take Kankri under your wing, keeping him safe, forming a relationship unknown and very unnatural, and disobeying what you were made for.   
But then he must have learned from you, and started bringing in outcasts of his own.   
And when looked at by a scared, scarred little boy who bows his head submissively, or a fierce, dirty little girl who puffs up like she's trying to scare you away when she's shaking herself, how can you possibly turn them away?  
  
You are now playing lusus to three little ones, while simultaneously trying to keep all of you alive, and none of them are anything close to normal trolls.  
If you were paid for this, it wouldn't be enough.

You wake up, in the very early night when the sun has just barely set and the cold is settling in, to someone scurrying past you.   
Meulin has a habit of going outside and smell the air for wildbeasts, having a snack, or some…other natural needs.   
You don't pay it much heed until you hear her purring further inside the small cave you've all taken shelter in.   
It's more of a collection of rocks stacked on top of each other than a cave, really, but it's just about enough to shelter you from the sun.   
But that is unimportant right now, as you don't want your Kankri to be out this early.   
You regretfully rouse and rise from your slumber, sighing at the woes of little trolls and the worries they bring, and walk outside into the semi-light.  
To your surprise, it is not Kankri who stands at the edge of the cliff.   
It is Mituna.   
He's such a quiet child, keeping to himself and rarely ever making a fuss, except when he can't help it and even then, he tries.   
Him sneaking out has never happened before, and so you imagine it's worthy of your attention.

You approach him slowly, making sure he can hear you coming as to avoid startling him.

"Mituna, dearest. It is still day, you should be resting. Is everything alright?"

He doesn't answer you, just continues standing where he is, looking at the horizon.  
You come closer still, until you're by his side, and put your hand on his shoulder.  
He turns his head to face you, and the immense sadness and fear in his face makes you gasp.   
He doesn't blink, and a single, pale yellow tear falls from one eye as he stares at you, through you, in you, and there is something deeply, deeply wrong.   
In stark contrast to his pained expression, his voice is dull and heavy and much too worn when he speaks.

  
"Everything is going to burn. They will not be merciful."

 

You are afraid.

You're vaguely aware that your hand is shaking, and you suddenly want to run back and hold Kankri in your arms, but that's ridiculous because this is Mituna and he's your little grub too and he's said strange things before, they all have, but never with this kind of conviction and never has it made you so uneasy.  
He blinks, then, and looks down like he's just as confused as you are, and then he cries.  
And he's your sweet Mituna again, not something mindless and frightening, and you hold him as he sniffles into your dress.   
He says something, and he shakes, but you only shush him and rock his little body.  
Meulin comes out and asks you what is wrong, are we in danger, is Tuna hurt, but you tell her everything is all right. Mituna just had a nightmare, isn't that right?  
  
But dread still hangs over you and him, even later in the night, and you think your little yellowblood knows much more than he's willing to tell.

 

 

Sweeps upon sweeps later, you watch the Highbloods kill your children, and you finally understand the value of his words.

 


	3. O, death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing you see with your eyes is worth noting. It's all so very, very dull, and blends together in one shapeless blur. You think you may die, and you do not feel anything in regards to that thought.
> 
> And then you see her.

Highbloods, you have officially decided, are the absolute worst thing.  
Worse than hunger, worse than plague, worse than migraines that make you black out.  
The. Worst. Thing.

Not only to they deign to attack Signless, trying to put out the fire that's all that keeps the lowbloods alive sometimes, all that keeps you alive, with his crackling passion and soft but intense glow and the heat that melts away the cold fear of the Highbloods.  
No, that's not enough for them.

This time, they do not attack, they ambush.

They come from the shadows and the alleyways of this small, peaceful town, striking down anyone and anything in their path.  
Already, some brave listeners to His hymns have done their best to stand up, show bravery, but bravery is what gets you killed when you're up against something so terrifying. Kankri had cried when they stomped down innocent trolls whose only folly was to dare to indulge in hope.  
You know how deeply he feels for them, and how much it hurts him to have the vile darkness of the world shoved in his face.

You, Meulin and Porrim, you can deal with it. You have seen cruelty, experienced it, and it no longer surprises you.  
But you all try to keep him safe from watching the rust run down the streets, try to keep him happy and optimistic and achingly sincere in his belief that things will get better, because if he stops hoping, then who will?

 

You tear down a Highblood in your way, trying not to make it too gruesome because even in a situation like this, Kankri does not want there to be more death than necessary.  
But everything is a flurry.  
Kankri is crying, Meulin screams something and you think she is dragging him by the cloak, you're not sure. You lost sight of them in the midst of all the townspeople desperately fleeing their homes, trying to run away down the narrow street, some managing and some falling dead to the ground by the hand of the Highbloods.  
Some are trampled to death by their own kind.  
  
Porrim is looking at you, calling you, but you can't leave, not before you're certain you won't be followed, even a small misstep could lead to the death of you or your comrades.

Voices screech in your head, a chill kisses your spine, cold, manic horror blooms in your mind, and you make a misstep.

Something hits you. You'll never find out what, but your head explodes into agony and then nothing, and you fall to the ground.

 

 

You are numb.

  
Everything seems to be moving in slow motion, movement leaving illusionary trails in its wake.  
You see feet running past you, a brownblooded woman screams just before an arrow strikes her in the throat.  
  
You do not hear her. You hear nothing.  
  
Nothing you see with your eyes is worth noting. It's all so very, very dull, and blends together in one shapeless blur.  
You think you may die, and you do not feel anything in regards to that thought.

And then you see her.

 

Among the panic, the unfocused bland figures and silent shouts and screams, everything moving so, so slowly, as if it is not moving at all, she is there.  
Her horns create nigh impossible spirals, graceful and strange, like her.  
Her face is blank, emotionless, and her eyes are colours of which you've never seen in someone before, and she seems to be brighter than anything around her, standing out like a gemstone in a rubble.  
Her feet do not touch the ground, and she has no pupils to focus on you, yet you know she is looking, as if she's waiting for you, examining you?  
She is terrifying and dark and twisted, and so, so beautiful.  
  
You wonder if it is the death come to take you.

But as you accept the thought, because you cannot really feel anything and therefore feel no fear of death, she turns away.  
Slowly, or perhaps it is you who are slow and are taking things in at a different pace, she turns in the air and leaves.  
You're not sure how you know, as somehow it's like nothing registers in your mind anymore, but you can feel it; she does not disappear, but she is also no longer here.  
  


You hear something, but cannot take your eyes off her.  
She feels important, and you want her to stay, you want to know who and why and so many other things, but it is as if you resurface from being submerged in water.  
  
All at once, the silence is noise and the blur is in sharp contrast, and though you could swear your eyes were never closed, it is as if you open them, and see Porrim standing over you.  
  
She is calling something, and Kankri moves into your field of vision, worry creasing his brow.  
  
You realize that you are lying on the ground. You also realize that your skull may be fractured.  
  
"-ii? Psii!"  
  
Kankri is trying to reach you, and it does nothing for the immense pain in your head. You groan and try to shield your eyes, but your hand is heavy and uncooperative.  
You hear Porrim thank the higher powers, sighing deeply, and Kankri smiles uncertainly.  
  
"Are you alright, my friend?"  
  
Your answer is interrupted by someone running by and bumping into Porrim.  
The Highbloods must still be at large, or at the very least the destruction they wrought is still at its peak.  
  
Kankri hoists you up, slinging an arm around your waist and your hand around his shoulders, and Porrim frets over you.  
It appears that you're not being pursued, so you let your head dangle and your psionics sleep for now.  
  
Kankri babbles, as he tends to do when he's nervous or scared, but you don't listen.  
Something important is still echoing in your mind, and be it the head trauma or a simple lapse in sanity, your mouth says what your mind is trying to wrap around.  
  
"I saw death."  
  
Kankri halts and looks at you, concerned and awkward, and Porrim eyes your bleeding head with suspicion.  
  
"You…saw death?"  
Kankri repeats, and later you'll feel a little bad for making him worry like this, but you're injured and weak and something strange, coiling and positively giddy is unraveling somewhere inside you, and you grin.

 

"She was beautiful."

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Slip of the Tongue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400166) by [FebruaryGemini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FebruaryGemini/pseuds/FebruaryGemini)




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